Of Snarkyness and Sarcasm
by Alairia-Young
Summary: A Snarry story featuring a snarky Snape and sarcastic Hyacinth (fem!harry)
1. Of Keys and Cupboards

Chapter 1: Of Keys and Cupboards Chapter Text

 **Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter does. Wait a minute...**

~ _dream~_

 _"Kill the spare," a high, cold, cruel voice that has haunted Hyacinth since her parents' death hisses._

 _A million thoughts fly through Hyacinth's mind._

 _Nononono._

 _Please no. Not again._

 ** _"Please. Please don't kill her!"_**

 _"Avada Kedavra!" a second, slightly whimpering, voice says._

 _ **"Please I'll do anything!"**_

 _A bright jet of dark green light headed their way._

 _ **"Step aside girl."**_

 _It flies past her and zooms toward Cedric._

 _ **"No! Take me. Take me instead!"**_

 _His expression that had been full of confusion turns into one of dawning horror as the spell hits him square in the chest._

 _~dream~_

...

It's around midnight when they come to spring me from the prison of Privet Drive. Since I got Hermione's letter, I've been waiting up every night, sitting by the windowsill in the bedroom that still doesn't really belong to me. Of course, it would have been blatantly obvious who they were and why they were here even without the advanced warning considering how they're dressed. Robes, honestly?

There's an outraged yell from downstairs, and I brought out of my musings. The source is almost certainly Uncle Vernon. It's honestly a bit surprising they got into the house without Aunt Petunia shrieking fit to bring the whole neighborhood down. More than once I've wished that, instead of killing Cedric, or my parents, or Siri, ol' Moldie and his Death Munchers could've moved themselves to be useful for a change and offed the dear Dursleys instead.

Speaking of Death Snackers . . .

"-tter . . ." comes a faint call.

"Miss Potter!"

"MISS POTTER!" The oh-so-dulcet tones of Severus Snape reach me. I glance away from the window to find him standing in the doorway wearing an expression kindly described as agitated. I didn't realize I'd left it open. Or how quietly he can move.

"Sir." I reply curtly.

He raises an eyebrow, glaring at me in suspicion. Does he think I was mocking him? While it is perfectly true that I've never voluntarily called him sir, I reserve the right to be inconsistent. Besides, there was nothing mocking in my tone. I mean, sure, it was out of character, but I'm sleep deprived! Surely I'm entitled.

"Might I kindly suggest that you get a move on, Miss Potter? I'd prefer us to be on our way before I have to stun your uncle again," he sneers. I refrain from rolling my eyes; I understand this is probably near the top of his top ten list of places he'd rather not be (I mean, same here), but does he have to be such a dick about it? Silly me, what was I thinking? It's Severus Snape; of course he does.

Snape glares at me as if he knows precisely what I'm thinking. Course, he probably does. Git.

I ignore him as I walk past him, down the stairs, and to the cupboard under them. Wasn't expecting that, was he? I know what he thinks of me. 'Little Princess Potter. A stuck up brat who's never faced the harshness of the world.' Yeah, right.

Now, where are those keys? I check under the mat – no. On the rack – no. Where the hell are they?!

There's an annoyed sigh behind me as I frantically search for the keys hidden by my darling only living relatives. ("Petunia! Hide the trunk! We wouldn't want the freak to hurt our Diddykins, now would we?")

I can practically here him rolling his eyes. "Accio cupboard keys!"

I turn with a frown to see the keys zooming toward us from the direction of the kitchen. Huh.

"Thanks, Snape," I mutter as I take the keys now dangling from his index finger. He raises an eyebrow, his expression sardonic. I blush, simultaneously embarrassed and irritated, feeling more chastised than if he'd actually told me off for wasting his time.

I turn my attention to the cupboard. Okay. Deep breath. It will be the first time you will see the letters Siri gave you before he died, but you will not cry. You can't. You can't afford to break down. Never mind in front of Snape. Never that. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Oh, you're doing so well!

Eventually, I find the right key. It feels like millennia before I even manage to get the cupboard open, but somehow I do. I manage to pull the trunk and the letters out before I'm momentarily lost in memory.

 _~flashback~_

 _"Come on you can do better than that!" Sirius bellows from behind me._

 _I turn around just in time to see BellaBitch throw an orange curse at him. His eyes connecting with hers as he is pushed back, near the Veil. His once handsome face so full of jubilation turning to dawning horror, his body arching, turning, falling, into the veil._

 _Nonononono._

 _This was not supposed to happen._

 _He was supposed to get her away from the Durselys._

 _"SIRIUS!"_

 _~flashback~_

It is with blurry eyes that I stand up and walk into the living room.

...

AN: A billion thanks to my beta on ao3, dezlizabethl22, and a mountain of cupcakes to the people who bookmarked this and to mymi095 and liseyyyy88 for pointing out my mistakes.

Also, people have told me that I spelled snarkiness wrong in the title. That's actually meant to be like that...

Signing out,

Alairia_Young


	2. Of Stunners and Order members

...

My aunt is glaring at me, her pursed lips giving her a pinched look. Until she opens her mouth, that is. "GET THESE – THESE _FREAKS_ OUT OF MY HOUSE!" I know she hasn't got a drop of magical blood in her, but sometimes I could swear she's related to a banshee. I used to think perhaps the long neck and horse-ish face was an unfortunate side effect of being related to giraffes. I'd like her better if she was; giraffes don't talk, let alone screech.

Tonks, her hair the color of candy-floss, rolls her eyes; I know the feeling. She does what I've long wished too, and Stuns dear old Aunt Petunia. The red beam of light hits her in the stomach, and she falls into a graceless heap next to her beloved walrus of a husband. I hope it hurt as I gaze dispassionately at the pair of them.

They deserve so much worse, but there's no time. And even if there was, I'm not sure they would be worth the bother. There's a strange warmth spreading through my chest, like tea on a cold day; I realize it's gratitude, to Snape of all people, for dispatching my uncle. I squash down the fear that they'll wake up at any moment as I drag my trunk in behind me. I just want to leave. Please, God, let me leave.

Snape turns as I drag my trunk across the sitting room threshold. I wonder what he's got to carp on about now?

'I guess Snape was right. They did have to stun him.' I think as I drag my bulky trunk near the door.

"Perhaps, Miss Potter, you would like a moment to say your _heartfelt_ goodbyes," Snape suggests sarcastically. Never mind that the three of them are unconscious, and they've, I assume, been quite horrid, considering the Order has sunk to Stunning relatively defenseless muggles. Saying that would just be a waste of time and breath. I just want to get to the Burrow, where I'm safe and liked.

"I think I'll pass," I mutter, looking up from their prone bodies to shoot him a stony glare. _Can't you see, you great, bloody git, that I'm dying to get away from this place? This one time you don't bother to read my mind, I almost, very nearly wish you_. . . I can't believe I just wished Snape inside my head . . . again.

Snape quirks an eyebrow. "As you like. Auror Tonks!"

"Er, yes, sir?"

"Tell Kingsley to get the portkeys ready. I'll be there in about thirty minutes."

She narrows her eyes at him, clearly wondering, like me, what he's up to now.

"I _suppose_ . . ." she says finally, grudgingly. As if she's doing something morally reprehensible, but is afraid to say no. One of the indisputable laws of physics: former students of Severus Snape are at least intimidated and more likely terrified of him, and rightly so. She leaves after a few moments of standing there awkwardly. I hear her trip over a coatrack on her way out.

"Miss Potter." He exhales, and for him it seems tantamount to a heavy sigh, and bites out, "Take . . . my arm." He holds it out, bearing an expression of distaste.

I peer at it, wondering if it's a trick of the light. Well, probably not. But he could still be an imposter. And I'm not terribly inclined to touch him even if he's not.

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes glittering with irritation. "Miss Potter, we do not have all night," he reminds me, his enunciation crisp and exact. After another moment, in which I continue to glare at his arm instead of taking it, he grabs my arm and Disapparates anyway.

Everything goes black, and I have the distinct and distinctly unpleasant sensation of being sucked through a tube. My eyeballs are pushed back into my sockets, my eardrums pressed back into my head. I feel even the urge to throw up pressed back down my throat. I can't breathe.

And then suddenly, my feet reconnect with solid ground. My knees buckle and I fall towards Snape, who lets go of my arm like it's on fire and steps away from me. I glare at him once I've regained my balance. He starts walking, not even bothering to glance back to check if I'm following. Why on _Earth_ did Dumbledore send _him?_

 _..._

 ** _AN_** **: ok, was it just me or was this chapter kinda hard to write... Anywho, thanks to the ppl who favorited this and my beta!**

 **Sighning out,**

 **Alairia Young**

 **(P.S. I'll most likely update every month)**


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